


Lesath

by dancinguniverse



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: K/S Advent Calendar, M/M, Vulcan Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5354198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinguniverse/pseuds/dancinguniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim had taken Spock’s hands in his own and was gently chafing them, warming Spock’s colder hands. Spock held very still, but then, he hadn’t ever been a creature of nervous energy or absent movement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesath

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the [K/S Advent calendar.](http://ksadvent.livejournal.com/) Check out the other stories there!

The Lesathians offered the _Enterprise_  crew every hospitality, from food and drink, to guided tours of their museums and public spaces, to free access to their political and cultural leaders. After a century of subjugation by their neighboring system, they were clearly grateful and eager to please their new Federation partners. They showed off their glacial planet with pride, happy to extend the strong community ties of their world with newcomers from space who seemed to have far more in common with them culturally then their aggressive neighbors. The rooms they had offered the Federation officers were particularly beautiful, full of color and light that looked more like an art exhibit than sleeping quarters. 

“Pretty glass, but they could turn up the damn heat,” Bones muttered, looking around their borrowed space. The whole structure was fashioned out of whorls of colored glass, graceful and fragile looking. His breath fogged faintly out in front of him. The walls seemed to radiate cold. 

“That would seem at odds with their architectural style,” Spock observed, though he looked distinctly displeased himself. “The walls are formed from water ice.” He pointed his tricorder at the structures in question, brows drawing together thoughtfully. “There are additional trace substances in the material, however. Unclear as to their purpose, though I would surmise it aids the structural integrity.” 

“We’re sleeping in a literal ice cavern?” Uhura asks skeptically. 

“Come on now, gentlemen,” Jim said, throwing down his pack. “We’ll throw on an extra sweater or two, what’s the harm?” 

“This is nothing,” Chekov said cheerfully, claiming a bed with his own pack. “In Russia, my father took us camping in weather just like this.” Bones made a face that Jim, in his effort to maintain a captain-like sense of decorum, purposely avoided, lest his ensign think his captain were laughing at him. 

Sulu eyed the walls with naked fascination. “How do you think they make these anyway? It really does look like blown glass.” He approached, reaching out with his fingers, and Spock, ever one to support a sense of curiosity, approached and tilted his tricorder for perusal. 

Uhura studied them all, hands on her hips. “Standard Human and Vulcan temperature ranges were on the list of lodging requirements. You don’t have to just take this. I’ll talk to Aumir,” she said flatly, and left the room in search of their assigned attaché. 

A half an hour later she returned, looking annoyed. “These are the only guest rooms they have. Or rather, they have plenty, but all like this.” 

Sulu grimaced. “Even for sleeping?”

Bones snorted. “Have you looked at the blubber layer on these guys?” Sulu looked dubious, and Bones scowled. “I’m speaking medically, here. Perfect insulation means not worrying about the outside temperatures. Kind of a nifty evolutionary trick, when you think about it.” He rubbed his arms. “I probably wouldn’t care how cold my room was either at that rate.” 

“I am sure Mr. Scott will send us down thermal insulation of our own,” Spock pointed out. “Captain?” 

Jim nodded at him and Spock stepped away to make the call. 

He was still in conversation with the ship when Aumir returned to escort them to their first meetings, and Uhura looked pleadingly at him, stamping her feet. 

“Ship’s stores has true thermal insulation suits,” he reported, “But Lieutenant Byers in Cultural objected that we will not want to be wearing full head and body coverage, which will make communication difficult without radios, and eating impossible without violating the suit’s thermal integrity. She is — unfortunately — correct. She recommends long johns,” he looks like the words are distasteful, “as she has colloquially called them, which are unlikely to be fully effective.” 

“I’d take some pants,” Uhura grumbled, and Sulu, who had looked about to complain, shut his mouth again. 

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. “They will send down the undergarments as soon as they are assembled, and are working on alternative solutions. But as we are due in meetings,” he inclined his head toward Aumir, “We may have to delay changing clothes.” 

Jim eyed him, thinking about the oppressive Vulcan heat. “Will you be all right, Mr. Spock?”

Spock barely cut his eyes over. “I shall persevere,” he said dryly. “If we are prepared, then?”

They filed their way out of the room, and Jim sidled up to Bones. “Will he be okay?” Jim asked Bones under his breath. Jim knew he could function for quite a while in the current levels. He would be chilly, but in no actual health danger, provided everyone kept fingers and toes warm. The main rooms, while still cool, were at least above freezing.

Bones rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Hell if I know. Wringing medical information about his tangled up genetic gumbo out of Vulcan has never been easy, so it’s not like I ever had numbers to hand. But I doubt he’s gonna keel over without warning. You’re probably better off borrowing some damn pants for Uhura like she asked, if you want to hover over somebody. I wouldn’t say no to a warmer jacket myself.” 

“I think you’ll survive, too,” Jim assured him, and stepped up to join the conversation with Uhura and their host. 

* * *

The talks and tours went well, and it was late by the time they retired to their room again. In the Lesathian way, the beds were lined up dormitory style in the main room, the planet being a communal one that didn’t see the point in excessive privacy. Jim didn’t mind particularly, enjoying the camaraderie of gathering together with his command crew after a day of busy meetings with strangers.

He listened to the rest of them sharing their day’s interactions, Sulu going on to Chekov about the botanical gardens, deep underwater forests of something like kelp, and Uhura pleased with a friend she had made in the ambassador’s group, Bones nodding along agreeably. Spock, predictably, was reviewing notes on his PADD, peering between it and his tricorder. He stopped every few seconds, flexing and shaking his fingers, finally raising them to exhale over them. Jim perched on the arm of his chair, which was thankfully not carved out of ice. Apparently _soft_ , at least, was a concept both species valued. 

“How did it go today?” Jim asked. Spock offered up his PADD. The tiny screen showed detailed schematics and blueprints, and Jim frowned at them, squinting. “Engines?” he asked. 

“They have not achieved space travel,” Spock said, “But that seems attributable to the years they spent under Cordinian rule.” 

“Their not-so-friendly neighbors,” Jim mused. “Certainly it held them back; that’s part of why we’re here. But what about engines makes you say that?”

Spock paged through the data, images flickering across the screen. “This island is massive, a true floating city. They propel the entire landmass. Captain, this is a true feat of engineering. A species who can design such an accomplishment for their oceans could surely have ventured out into space had they so desired and had they not been forced to ground.” Jim reached out, and Spock surrendered the PADD to him, then went back to massaging his own fingers. The engines were indeed like nothing Jim had ever seen. He set the PADD down on the seat between them. 

“You think I can squeeze out some space in my schedule tomorrow to check them out?” As captain, he was mostly set for meetings with the top brass of Lesath III, but he knew from experience that he worked better in practical situations. Both he and the Lesathians would be more at ease if he could talk with them in a more natural setting, let them show off their engine rooms, rather than trap all of them in a formal meeting.  

Spock considered. “I think it would be unwise to cancel any of the scheduled meetings for such an excursion. However, it could be suggested,” there was the tiniest of pauses when he looked down. Jim had taken Spock’s hands in his own and was gently chafing them, warming Spock’s colder hands. But Spock didn’t comment or pull away. “That your tour of the city begin there. Lieutenant Uhura would know best, but I do not believe they would take offense to your interest. Quite the opposite, in fact.” 

“I can be very charming,” Jim agreed. “Who could be offended?” His fingers slid over and around Spock’s, curling Spock’s fingers into his palm to better warm them, rubbing his thumbs over the back of Spock’s hands to stimulate blood flow. Spock held very still, but then, he hadn’t ever been a creature of nervous energy or absent movement.

“Would you prefer a list in chronological or alphabetical order?” he inquired, voice steady, though it was a bit lower than usual, pitched only for Jim’s ears. “There is quite the collection of worlds who did not find you so appealing.” 

“No, Mr. Spock,” Jim said easily, smoothing Spock’s hand out flat and drawing his fingers over them, the skin finally warming under his attention. “I think you’ll find there were extenuating circumstances on all those planets. In other times, we would have been the best of friends.” 

“Of course,” Spock said. He swallowed. The tips of his ears were slightly green. “I suppose even the Klingons give you no pause?”

“Oh no,” Jim said. “I’m sure there’s common ground there. You don’t agree?”

Jim drew his index finger along Spock’s, and Spock rotated his hand slowly, returning the gesture, and then drew it back down again. His eyes were focused on their hands, attention seemingly locked. “Cat got your tongue?” Jim prompted gently. Spock looked up to meet Jim’s gaze, eyes dark. He drew a deep breath.

“We’re sitting right here,” McCoy said loudly. Uhura was beset by a sudden coughing fit that sounded a lot like laughter. Chokov and Sulu looked up quizzically.

Spock looked down, taking his hands away and flexing his fingers hurriedly before picking up his PADD again. Jim smiled. “And we’re sitting right here,” he replied calmly. “Discussing diplomatic relations. And warming up.”

"Oh," Bones drawled. "Is that what you're calling it?"

“At any rate,” Spock said, voice more brusque. “I think touring the engineering room should not be a problem.” 

Jim nodded, standing again. “Thank you, Mr. Spock,” he said. “Your insight is appreciated, as always.” 


End file.
